


If I Give My Heart To You

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Star Trek Winter Holidays Series [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: AU, Bickering, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Pining Spock, Scheming Spock, Snarky McCoy, Star Trek Humor, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Valentines, oblivious McCoy, shy spock, spones - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9568337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: Spock is acting mysteriously and McCoy is getting anonymous gifts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the nice, sweet little Valentine's Day story I have tried to write twice, but instead got sidetracked by writing "Unnamed Demons" and "Emphatically Yours."

“Is that Spock?” Jim Kirk asked as he peered into the science lab.

“Yeah,” McCoy answered behind him, distracted by a paper he was scanning as he leaned against a biobed.

Kirk turned back to Sickbay. “I was wondering where he was. I thought he might be interested in a game of three-dimensional chess later. He loves that.”

Leonard McCoy looked up at last from his paper. “You’ll probably have to get in line. I think he’s got a new love interest.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Whatever he’s seeing through that microscope lens in the lab. He’s always hollering for me to come look at something new. Today I gave him a piece of rock that has silica crystals in it. I figured that all of that shininess should keep him quiet and occupied for hours. The way it sparkles, he‘ll think he‘s finding diamond mines for Lilliputians.” 

Kirk grinned. “Lilliputians? As in the little people in ‘Gulliver’s Travels?’”

“The same.” McCoy nodded toward the lab. “I wasn’t exaggerating about the diamond mines. Yesterday, Spock had a piece of iron ore that he was magnifying. He said that it looked like it had deposits of rubies under the scope. Acres of them. All he needs now is some teeny tiny miners to go after all of those gems. In his mind, we’ll all be millionaires.” He shrugged. “Between you and me, the rubies looked just like iron ore to me.”

“It sounds like he needs a change. Maybe some shore leave, but we can’t do that right now. Do you want me to find something else for him to do?”

“No. He’s harmless. It’s entertaining to have him buzzing around and makes the day go faster. He means well. And he has been a help around here, especially that day when one of the nurses was ill and we had all of those injuries come in. An extra pair of hands was more than welcomed then.”

“Well, I suppose he is off duty now. Just let me know if you don’t want him underfoot.“

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s been interesting having him around, seeing things through his eyes. It‘s almost as if he was just discovering the invisible world.“

At that moment, Spock walked out of the lab. “Dr. McCoy, you really should see this-- Oh, Jim! Nice to see you! Has Dr. McCoy told you about my project?”

“He’s said that you like looking at shiny rocks; yes.”

“Not just shiny rocks, Jim. There’s worlds to be seen. It‘s really quite fascinating.”

Kirk wanted to flash a knowing look at McCoy. He could see McCoy stir from the corner of his eye. But Spock would note any effort at collusion from them, and neither wanted to insult him or make him think that they were making fun of him. McCoy, though, would be more than ready to say “See?!” to Kirk, simply to make his point.

“I’ve no doubt about your interest, Mr. Spock. I have a different proposition for you, though. I wondered if you might like to play some chess in the near future?”

“I might, Captain.” He shot a quick, guarded look at McCoy which the other two weren‘t supposed to see. “As soon as I finish my, ah, studies.”

“What studies?!” McCoy wanted to know. “Are you writing a thesis?!”

“No, but--”

Kirk stopped listening. He had seen that quick look that Spock had sent McCoy’s way. What difference did it make with McCoy if Spock and Kirk spent time together? Spock didn’t have to clear his social calendar with McCoy, did he? That didn’t make a whole lot of sense to Kirk.

 

The next day found the three of them eating together in the mess hall.

“I don’t know where you got a crazy idea like that, Spock!” McCoy declared.

Several diners glanced their way, then returned to their own meals. Those two officers who never saw eye to eye were back at it again. Nothing new there.

Situation normal, Kirk agreed, as he tucked into his chicken ranch salad with all of those nice vegetables shot through it. He hoped that his physician was noting the healthier food he had chosen over the lasagna that had been calling his name. But Kirk might as well have taken the lasagna, hell, two servings of it, as much as McCoy was noticing Kirk’s restraint. 

Because McCoy was hotly contesting something that Spock had just said. Kirk had lost the thread of the conversation between McCoy and Spock as his eyes were ogling a couple of female yeomen at the next table. All he knew for certain was that Spock had been setting McCoy up for a verbal kill. And now Spock had McCoy in his cross hairs. Kirk was waiting for it.

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

Now!

But the rejoinder from Spock never came. Kirk looked up, puzzled. He saw Spock close his mouth. Spock of the impeccable timing and the classic zingers hadn’t delivered, as expected. 

“I had not thought of the proposition in quite that way, Doctor.”

And McCoy, who had been waiting to further his argument, lost his timing and momentum, too. “Well, uh, just consider that set of facts before making wild statements like that again.”

“I shall, Doctor.”

Kirk frowned in thought. From what he remembered of the conversation, it had been McCoy, as usual, who had been making the wild statements.

Spock picked up his plate. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I must leave.”

“Of course,” Kirk mumbled.

“I regret that I will be unable to stay any longer. Is there anything I may do for you, Captain, before I leave?”

Huh? What could Spock do for Kirk here, in the mess hall?

Kirk frowned. “Ah, no, thank you, Mr. Spock. There isn’t.”

Spock turned his attention fully on McCoy. “Doctor?”

“Hmm?” McCoy mumbled as he considered his next attack on his own chicken ranch salad.

“Is there anything I may do for you before I leave, Doctor?”

McCoy looked up, stunned, and wasn’t as gracious as Kirk had been. “What in the hell can you do for me here in the mess hall?!”

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Doctor. I thought that perhaps I might get you more refreshment? Or perhaps a dessert? You did not choose any.”

“I did not choose any because I’m trying to cut back on my calories,” McCoy answered as his attention went back to his salad. “I noticed that I’ve got a little bit of extra flab around my middle.”

“Oh, I believe that you do not have anything to worry about, Doctor. On you, it looks good.”

McCoy’s eyes shot up, and his fork hung over his salad. “What?!”

“Nothing, Doctor. I am sorry if I upset you again.”

“I’m not upset! But I will be soon enough if you don’t stop apologizing to me!”

“Sorry, Dah-- Uh. Hmm.”

McCoy glared at him with narrowed eyes.

Spock studied him. “Ah. Yes.“ He breathed deeply. “Perhaps I should just excuse myself,” he said as he pushed back his chair.

“Perhaps,” Jim Kirk agreed, as equally puzzled as Spock appeared to be.

Spock stood and gathered his plate and utensils. “Gentlemen.” He seemed reluctant to leave. He glanced at Kirk, then his eyes remained on McCoy perhaps just one heartbeat longer than they should have. Then Spock scurried away.

“I don’t know what in the hell’s gotten into him,” McCoy complained. “If we were on Earth, I’d say it was a full moon affecting him, or even Spring fever. I don’t know what we can attribute his behavior to out here in space.”

“We don’t even have full moons out here,” Kirk muttered.

“Hmm?” McCoy frowned. “Don’t you start sounding all crazy, too. It could come from your being around him too much. I hope I don‘t catch it, the way he‘s been hanging around me.” His frown deepened. “No bull, Jim. I’m worried about Spock.”

“Oh?” Then Kirk grinned and tried to lighten the moment. “I worry about the both of you.”

“Well, thanks! Just put me right up there with the crazy acting Vulcan.” 

“Well, not worried about you, perhaps, maybe just puzzled about your behavior.”

“I don’t know why you’d be wondering about me! I’m an open book!”

Kirk was happy that he hadn’t been taking a drink of anything. He sputtered the way it was.

“What?!” McCoy barked. “What’s your problem?! Are you choking?!”

“Stop throwing me one liners like that when I’m not expecting it!"

McCoy frowned. "What one liner?"

"Please! I'm begging you! Stop, already! I’m not Spock! I can’t field your remarks the way he can!”

“I don’t know if you didn’t notice, but he wasn’t fielding my remarks at all. A twelve year old kid with his nose in a comic book and scratching his butt could’ve blasted me without thinking much about it! But Spock didn’t. I don’t know why he didn’t finish me off.”

“Maybe he thought it was a cheap shot. Or too easy.”

“I don’t know about that! I didn’t make it all that easy! I like the sparring with him, too! But don’t tell him that.“ He frowned in thought. “Who knows what his problem is! Damn Vulcan! Crazy as hell!”

“Maybe he’s just after your attention.”

“For what?! It’s not like I can shake him! He’s probably got more of my attention than he can stand! I know that I'm barely tolerating it! He’s underfoot constantly! If he has something to say, let him spit it out! He seems to be everywhere that I am! I even check behind the bathroom door to make sure he hasn’t followed me in there! Wouldn‘t surprise me at all to find him in there on the pot with me some morning when I‘m hung over. He‘d probably say that he was watching so I didn‘t fall off the throne! Too much togetherness just isn‘t healthy, Jim!" McCoy grumbled. "Or natural!”

“Maybe he’s just lonesome and wanting some company.“

“Let him get a dog! I’m not available! My neck doesn’t fit a leash!“ He looked aside. “Even if my wives were under that assumption,” he grumbled. He looked back at Kirk. “Damn it! I don’t want to have to act like a henpecked husband, when I’m not even a husband! I need some alone time! And Spock sure as hell isn‘t giving me any of it!”

“I thought that meditation ate up a lot of his free time.”

“Maybe thinking in abstracts has lost its charms for him. Maybe the human side has goaded him into wanting to deal with people, one on one.”

Kirk frowned. “Do you really believe that?”

“No. But it makes about as much sense as anything else.” McCoy grinned. “Hey, I know! Maybe he’s doing both! Maybe he’s learned how to compact his meditation into a small capsule so he‘ll have time to socialize!”

Kirk looked thoughtful. “Is that an option? Compacting meditation? I thought that type of activity relied on concentration and deprivation and discomfort. And long stretches of time contemplating your navel, or some such obscure philosophical premise. It looks like meditation only counts if the ones doing the meditating are suffering and uncomfortable.”

“I know. Why would he ever want to give any of that up? Vulcans love to suffer grandly.”

“No pain, no gain, I suppose. At least, that’s the way it always looked to me. Of course, it is a good discipline and teaches restraint with application. Sometimes, I‘ve thought I should take up meditation.”

“You?!“ McCoy hooted. “You’re too much of a sensualist and epicurean to meditate. Hell, you wouldn’t even have the patience for it! If it can’t be done without laying down a sweeping path where it will show the most, you’re off onto something else. You bore too easily. No, subtly is not the route for you. You require grand gestures.”

“I still think he just wants your attention.”

“And people in Hell are just wanting ice water. No, he’s just going through a phase. One of these days he’ll be back to watching plants grow as he sits in the lotus position. Personally, that day can’t come too soon.”

Kirk frowned. To him, Spock was wanting McCoy’s attention. Was Kirk seeing something that McCoy wasn’t? Was McCoy missing the obvious?

 

McCoy was.

 

It had all started out rather simply and innocently. Spock had a Valentine for McCoy, but was hesitant to give it to him. Would McCoy believe that Spock was sincere? And would McCoy be careful with Spock’s heart if he accepted it?

Spock generally never found himself in this kind of a predicament. He generally was above this kind of thing. His rule was to leave emotions strictly alone. They were a trial for him and a constant battle to control. But lately he had become aware of Leonard McCoy, and he wondered if McCoy could ever possibly return that interest. 

McCoy should be the last one to attract logical Spock’s attention. McCoy was erratic, argumentative, emotional, and a little pepper pot of wasted motion and illogical contradictions. Spock never knew which direction McCoy’s actions would plunge next. Normally, that kind of behavior would have affected Spock’s equilibrium and sent him careening wildly around the room looking for sanctuary. 

Why, then, was Spock suddenly aware of him? 

Could it have been that time when McCoy had dressed up in drag, had flirted outrageously with his audience, and had sung a torch song in the crew’s amateur talent show? How he had enticed a shy Chekov and acted coy around the earthy Scotty? And Spock had wondered if this singer was the same acid tongued ridiculer of ‘poppycock,’ the same champion of his patients, and the same gallant Southern gentleman around the ladies whom Spock knew.

Or was it when McCoy had spoken so passionately about hungry children living in the ghettos on so many worlds as he had addressed the Federation of Planets? Unashamed tears had flowed down his cheeks as he helped to persuade rich people on those planets to jar loose and donate funds for those same hungry children.

Or how about the many nights when McCoy had sat up all night watching a patient and then doggedly and without complaint had reported for work on his next shift. Spock had seen McCoy’s hands shaking with fatigue on those occasions. And the only thing that had dissuaded McCoy from continuing his work was when Kirk or Spock had pointed out that McCoy’s service might not be in the best interests of the patients in Sickbay. Only then had McCoy sought out food for himself and his own bed.

Who really knew who Leonard McCoy was? Spock thought that he had known the man, but then these other Leonard McCoy's had shown up. It was so confusing. And, at the same time, fascinating.

It was nearly sacrilege to suggest, but could the mere nature of McCoy’s inconsistency be what was attracting Spock to him? Could it be the fact that in the midst of the most outrageous tirade, McCoy might unpredictably turn sweet and loyal and just plain cute? And just when had Spock begun to have an appreciation for anything cute? Normally, he hated cute. Or at least had nil tolerance for cute. That concept was highly illogical, especially when it involved Spock. 

For whatever the cause or combination of causes, Spock was in love. Full blown, unequivocally, in love. As in birds singing lustily in treetops and people gambolling berserkly through the misty moonlight in the forest glen type of falling in love. It was illogical as hell. And just plain didn't make any sense. Come on! McCoy?!

But, as Spock understood it, love was anything but logical. And sense, common or otherwise, didn't seem to count anymore. It had no rhyme or reason to it. It capered about, full of addle-pated caprice and dressed in gauzy materials with flowers woven through its flowing hair. It skipped and scampered blithely about, hitting unsuspecting participants with no pattern to its random selections, whatsoever. And why Spock should ever fall victim to its charms was far beyond his comprehension. But, for whatever reason, here he was, logical, generally sane Spock, just as besotted as any of the romantic poets had ever predicted he would be.

And he didn’t care if he was. That was the most illogical part of it. He didn’t care if his interest made any sense or not. He was simply smitten by the fatal love bug and happy to be under its spell.

The only problem was that Spock, expert and knowledgeable in so many areas, was completely at sea when it came to romance. He totally had no comprehension of how to proceed to plight his troth, as the ancient Earthlings used to say. He longed to be able to tell McCoy of his interest, but felt shy and awkward around the more worldly McCoy. McCoy might live in a constant whirl of angst and chaos with a little black cloud forever over his head, but he was experienced. The man had, for heaven’s sake, been married several times. And to hear him tell it in his tired, jaded voice, there had been other relationships, sampled and delighted in, but discarded, generally by the other party. What could the romantic novice who was Spock possibly do to get McCoy’s attention? 

Not that Spock didn’t try. He could do nothing less. His feelings spurred him ever forward, with little hope of success. But still he had to try.

Of course, that trying was causing puzzlement for McCoy and for their friend Kirk. And of course, it was a slow building phenomenon. It’s socially inept and emotionally challenged Spock we’re talking here. He was too shy and fainthearted to do anything too blatant. But try he must and he did, in almost unnoticed ways.

 

Spock had been leaving little gifts for McCoy, too, but McCoy didn’t recognize them as such.

“What the hell is this, Jim?” McCoy asked as he picked a pastry box up off his office desk in Sickbay.

“Looks like a croissant to me,” Kirk answered.

“I know what it is. I meant, what the hell is it doing on my desk?”

“Somebody set it down and forgot to pick it back up?”

“This is a helluva out of the way place to ‘accidentally’ leave a croissant. My desk isn‘t exactly in the mainstream of foot traffic around here.” He looked around. “That doesn’t make any sense.” He poked his head into Sickbay itself and shook the box at Chapel. “Christine, is this your croissant?”

Christine Chapel looked up, puzzled. “Are you kidding?! If I had brought a croissant in here, it would have come in here inside me and not in any box.”

“Well, this one was here on my desk, and I thought maybe it was yours.”

“If I had brought it in here to have eaten later, I certainly wouldn’t have left it on your desk. Pastries have a way of disappearing around you. And the sad, little trail of drying crumbs tell the pastry‘s tragic end.”

“Everybody‘s a comedian today,” McCoy muttered to Kirk. “First you, and now Chapel.”

Kirk grinned.

“Well, back to the mystery of this croissant. Who did leave it in here then?”

“I have no idea, Doctor,” Chapel answered. “Wait. Mr. Spock was in Sickbay earlier. Maybe he set it down and forgot it.”

“Did he have a box with him?”

“I don’t remember. I was busy.”

“Well, his loss,” McCoy said with a shrug as he took a bite of the croissant and started chewing. “My gain.”

But Kirk wasn’t satisfied. “What did Mr. Spock want in here, Nurse Chapel?”

“Oh, he was after stomach digestives, I believe he said. He helped himself, then left.”

“Has he been having problems with indigestion?” McCoy asked with a frown as he took another bite of the buttery treat.

“He didn’t say, Doctor.”

“That’s odd,” Kirk mused. “How could a vegetarian have indigestion problems?”

“Maybe by eating too much of a rich pastry?” McCoy asked as he looked with appreciation at his half-eaten croissant. “I’ll save him from that problem.” He finished off the pastry and licked his fingers. “Christine, anytime there is a stray croissant left lying around, be sure to inform me so I can dispose of it properly.”

“Better going to your waistband than mine,” Chapel mumbled.

“I have a higher metabolism than you do, Christine. “I’ll burn it off.”

Chapel glanced at Kirk. “I hate to admit it, Captain, but Dr. McCoy is right. I gain weight just by thinking of pastries. While he--” Her eyes slid toward McCoy, and she sighed. “Well, let’s say that the croissant he just ate will have the same effect on him as a bowl of lettuce would on me. It just isn’t fair.”

Kirk, who had his own battles with weight, could only agree. “I know exactly what you mean, Christine. There‘s no justice in the universe.”

McCoy grinned widely as he threw away the croissant box.

 

“Alright, Spock! I caught you red handed!”

Spock froze and nearly dropped the box in his hand.

“What is it this time?” McCoy asked as he stepped out of the shadows of Sickbay deep in artificial night. “A tape of music I couldn’t find? My favorite brand of bourbon? Another tasty croissant?”

“How did you know it was me?” Spock asked as he set down the package before he dropped it.

“How could I not?!” McCoy barked. “You’re as subtle as a heart attack!”

Spock bowed his head. His heart was in ashes. He picked up the package. “I am sorry if I bothered you. I will leave now.”

“Stop apologizing!“

“I am--“

“Stop! Good. Now, what’s in the package?” McCoy inquired softly.

“Cuban cigars.”

“Wow! You really did have to dig to come up with that preference, didn’t you?”

Spock nodded his head, but didn’t raise it.

“I didn’t mind, you know.”

Spock raised his head. “What?”

“The presents. The attention. I loved it, in fact.”

“But you never said--”

“I didn’t want to make it too easy for you. It wouldn’t have been worthwhile then.”

“A little easier would have been acceptable with me,” Spock grumbled. “I would have valued my success just as much.”

“And Jim Kirk thought he was the only one who had it figured out.”

“It is only a game for you, but I was serious. You are hurting me, Doctor.”

“Then I don’t mean to,” McCoy said softly. “What was the idea, anyway? What were you trying to do?”

Spock drew an envelope out of his pocket. “I had a Valentine card that I wanted to give to you.”

McCoy looked interested. “Really? A Valentine? Why didn‘t you, then?”

“I did not know if you would believe that I was sincere.”

McCoy frowned. “Why wouldn‘t I think you were sincere?”

“You question me about everything else, I thought you might about it, also.” He looked down in pain. “And each question would cheapen the card, and I would hate ever having thought of trying to give it to you.”

“You think I could be that much of a skunk?”

“I am sorry. I should not have questioned your potential motives--”

“I don‘t blame you!”

Spock looked up in surprise. “What?”

“It wasn‘t your fault. I would‘ve questioned motives, too, if someone treated me the way I treat you.” He studied Spock. “I suspect you wondered if I‘d even be careful with your heart if you gave it to me, didn‘t you?”

Pain flashed across Spock‘s lowered face, and it was all too obvious that that had been a fear of his.

“I‘m sorry if I caused you to worry like that. I should be nicer to you, and then you wouldn‘t have had that doubt.”

“Please, Doctor, do not admonish yourself.”

“But I need to! Especially since you‘ve been going to all of this trouble for me.”

“It seemed that after I started, I enjoyed doing it more and more.”

“And I enjoyed the attention. I like to be romanced as much as the next person. And you did romance me!”

“Well, I tried.” 

“But it didn’t feel right.“

“Oh?“

“It wasn’t you. And it forced me to be something I wasn’t, either. If we’re going to do this, be more than friends, we have to go back to what we were before.“

“Before?“

“Before you started being Santy Claus and somebody who was so anxious to please that we were both acting unnatural.“

“I just wanted to be good to you.“

“I know you did. And you’ll never know how grateful I feel. But I want you to be you, again. Do you think you can do that for me? Be you again, so I can be me again?“

Spock heard the plea and the exasperation in McCoy’s voice and knew that McCoy was right. It was the seeming contradictions in McCoy's personality and actions that Spock had found so intriguing. Stifling their natural way of relating to each other would just be wrong. And ultimately might result in a breach that could not be healed.

“I would be pleased to do that for you, Doctor,“ Spock said and began to feel a little better himself.

McCoy grinned warmly. "In fact, it would probably help if you loosened up a little."

"Loosened up a little?"

"You know, let your emotions show more. It would be healthy, too."

Spock looked thoughtful. "That is a sound suggestion. I see that you will be good for me."

"I hope I can be."

“I thought we could have something good together, if you would only allow it."

"Spock, we can't go any further unless you realize something else."

Spock paled. Already he had done something wrong. "What is that?" he asked with hesitation in his voice.

"This will only work if we're both equal. Just like being natural, we have to be equals. Detente, friendship, intimacy, any relationship between two or more people, can only work if they are equals. I will not have sole control with us. That would not be fair. You will have equal say."

This was sounding better all of the time to Spock. "I can live with that condition, Doctor. A relationship will be good for us, because we both will allow it."

McCoy smiled. "Much better."

"We will both benefit. And we would not be so lonely anymore. We are good company for each other, is that not true?”

“Yes, that we are,” McCoy answered with a smile. “We can go on for hours with our talking, when everyone else would be exhausted by our chatter. Even Jim Kirk gets glazed eyed. No, we can entertain each other, that’s for sure. No doubt about that.”

“I could be good for you. You would not have to think that you had failed with your relationships. You could feel good about yourself again.”

“And what are you going to get out of this relationship, Vulcan?”

Spock’s smile was blinding.

“Come on! You can’t settle for just me!”

“I feel like I am not settling.”

McCoy swore under his breath.

“If I feel like I am winning, why not let me think that?”

“Because I do not want to disappoint you, Spock.”

Spock frowned.

“And I could,” McCoy said softly. “Oh, I could. And I couldn’t stand doing that to you. You are much too precious to me.”

“I am?” Spock asked with a shy smile.

“Oh, yes,” McCoy answered with a rush of breath. “In fact, I’m the lucky one here, not you. That’s why I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What if we both watch out for it? What then?”

“Ever the cockeyed optimist, aren’t you?” Although he was grinning viciously, there was no mirth behind it.

“No,” Spock answered as he looked at him levelly. “Just someone in love.”

“Spock.” McCoy studied the determined face looking at him. “Oh, Spock. Oh, gosh. I, I didn't know.” McCoy saw the proud tears that Spock was trying hard not to shed. What McCoy also saw was Spock’s plea for the last chance at happiness written on every line in that face. That‘s when McCoy decided to take the gamble, also. If only he could be what Spock wanted, and needed.

Spock saw McCoy's hesitancy as potential rejection, but still Spock hoped. He had gone too far to backtrack. "So, here we are, Doctor, at an impasse."

"I realize that." He needed an answer, any answer. The Vulcan was waiting, and anxious. McCoy must not disappoint. Spock's hesitancy had brought them to this spot, and McCoy understood Spock's reluctance. McCoy knew he wasn't the most approachable person out there.

But, Spock. Spock loved him! Damn! He could have the Vulcan! Why not?! Why not, indeed?! He deserved some happiness for a change, didn't he? And the possibility for that happiness was standing right in front of him, ready for the taking. He already loved Spock as a friend. Could he be IN love with him, though?

Yes. Yes, he could be! Hell, that would be the easy part. Staying friends, with their differences of opinions constantly getting in the way, now that might be hard to do.

But just think of the make up! Hell, they might even fight just so they could make up!

Why the hell not?!

But McCoy sure as hell didn't want to be best buds. If he was getting the Vulcan, he wanted the whole Vulcan! Stealing a kiss whenever he wanted, just because the damn Vulcan had him cornered verbally and hotter sexually than any volcano! Now they would have a more satisfying outlet for all of that pent up frustration.

And so many other pluses that McCoy could list.

A body full of furnace heat to snuggle up against on cold nights!

Sexy pointed ears that he couldn't wait to trace with his tongue!

A heart that McCoy knew could be loyal and true.

McCoy opened his mouth and hoped that his voice was steady enough for speech. “It’s a package deal, you know,” McCoy said softly.

“Pardon?” Spock asked.

McCoy looked a little frustrated. “Come on, Spock! You know what I’m talking about here! More than my heart is involved. We‘re not in junior high! Do you really want me to explain the Facts of Life to you here?!”

It dawned on Spock what McCoy meant, and his face felt warm. He assumed that his cheeks were darkening with a deep green color.

Here he had been waxing poetic, and McCoy had been practical. They had switched philosophies?

Now would come McCoy’s tirade, and Spock’s feelings would be trounced.

Then Spock got a surprise.

McCoy gave him a gentle smile. “You know, there’s a place for both kinds of feelings, darlin'.”

“Darlin'?” Spock echoed. Dare he hope?

McCoy looked almost shy. “You were just braver than me with your Valentine.” He frowned at himself. "And, apparently, more sentimental." He reached into his pant pocket and pulled out a tube of something. “Lube. I’ve been keeping it warm down by McCoy, Jr. Just, ah, in case I had this all figured out right.”

How, ah, practical, Spock thought. No wonder McCoy thought Spock was more sentimental than he was. Some circles might even say that McCoy was being downright vulgar. But the more Spock considered McCoy's Valentine, the more excited he was becoming. And, oddly, titillated.

Once again they seemed to have switched philosophies.

“Well? How about it, Vulcan?” McCoy demanded gruffly as his smile faded and he almost glared at Spock.

Spock could see not only the anxiousness and doubt that McCoy was feeling, but also the hopeful determination on McCoy’s face. That wasn't anger fueling McCoy's emotions, Spock decided. That was gut wrenching fear. And something else that Spock was suddenly realizing that he wanted to be the recipient of, McCoy's lusty and unbridled passion. McCoy might even lose control. Who knew what Spock might be subjected to at McCoy's hands? And other punishing parts of his anatomy? The prospects were endless.

How thrilling!

“Will you be my Valentine?” McCoy demanded and tried to keep his voice steady.

The question hung between them.

McCoy was as unsure as Spock was!

Spock felt a pleased smile beginning as he extended his hand containing his greeting card. “Trade?”

He never knew that a tube of warm lubricant could feel so comforting as he watched McCoy eagerly reading the trite, beautiful sentiments on the Valentine. But the awed look on McCoy’s face was reward enough.

McCoy looked up. His smile would’ve been difficult to have faked. “Yes, darlin,’” he answered what the card had asked. “I will be yours. Oh, yeah. And I’ll be your Valentine, too.” He raised an eyebrow slightly, much as Spock would do. “Will you be mine?”

Spock slipped the tube of lube into his pant pocket and patted it and Spock, Jr. with his broad hand and long fingers.

McCoy studied that broad hand and imagined it and those long fingers on his own body, stroking his skin and making the rest of the world go away for him. Hopefully, McCoy wouldn’t have to wait too long for that reality. He wondered if he could get the Vulcan stirred up and make him lose that cool, condescending demeanor. Hell, he wondered, why not dream big! He wondered if he might make Spock lose control. Now, that! That might be awesome! 

Spock saw the look on McCoy's face. It looked like McCoy was mentally bouncing on the balls of his feet. Spock hoped that McCoy was thinking, and hoping, what he himself was thinking, and hoping. That this would indeed be a night to remember. “I will keep the lube warm,” Spock promised with all the feelings that were in his heart and points south of the belt buckle. “And Spock, Jr. ready.”

McCoy pretended shock. “Mr. Spock!”

“I have shocked you?”

“Valentine's is generally a more sentimental holiday.”

“As you so succinctly said, Dr. McCoy, there is a place for both kinds of expression. And we would not want to be limited by convention.” He raised an eyebrow just to put emphasis on what he was saying. “Would we?”

McCoy gave him a knowing look back. “Am I letting loose a tiger on myself?”

Spock gave McCoy an inscrutable look. “You will have to wait and find out for yourself.”

“Oh, boy! This is going to be the best Valentine’s Day, ever!”

 

Later, much, much later, Kirk walked into the mess hall and saw them sitting there huddled together, bent over a table, thick as thieves, and oblivious to the world. What the hell was going on between those two now, he wondered. He decided, though, not to stir the pot as long as they weren’t raising their voices, using language that was insulting to the ladies in the room, or throwing objects that could injure other people.

He decided, also, not to bother them. That huddle looked pretty exclusive. Their body language and especially their warm smiles for each other showed that they were not aware of the presence of anyone else in the room. They must’ve gotten something straightened out between them. From the relaxed looks on their faces, they had more than solved their differences. Whatever was going on between them didn't need to be interrupted.

Kirk turned and saw those two cute yeomen who had flirted with him before.

“Ladies,” he said as he grinned down at them. “What’s good to eat tonight?”

They smiled up at their captain, the best damn looking man serving on the Enterprise, or on any other Starship in the Fleet. He saw that the redhead spread her legs apart in invitation. 'Here's what's on the menu tonight, Captain,' he would have sworn his mind heard her mind say. If she really hadn’t offered that, though, she would before the night was over. 

Jim Kirk slid into a vacant chair at their table, leaned toward them with a flirty smile, and started to talk.

He hoped the redhead played a little hard to get. James T. Kirk always liked a challenge.

But not too much.

"What?!" McCoy bellowed.

Uh, oh, Kirk thought as he straightened and saw McCoy's livid face as he stared at a passive, yet determined Spock.

"You pointed-eared, thick-headed hobgoblin!"

Oh, boy. Thick-headed. McCoy's pulling out the big guns. Kirk sighed. That peace didn't last long.

"How in the blue blazin' hell can you possibly say that?! Didn't they teach you any common sense at all on that volcano that you called home?!"

Spock continued to look placid. Who knew how long that would last, either? Spock's eyes seemed to be snapping. When had he started showing that much emotion?

Kirk smiled at his table companions. "Ladies, if you will excuse me?"

"Doctor, I can assure you that--"

"Assurances have no place in this discussion!"

Spock folded his arms over his chest. "Neither does logic." He looked aside. "Apparently."

"What?!"

Kirk flinched. "It appears that something has come to my attention, ladies." He sighed. "I, ah, probably won't be back." He jumped to his feet.

"What do you mean, Vulcan?! Don't get shy now! By all means, vent!"

"Gentlemen! Do nothing that will cause any permanent damage!" Kirk hollered at them. "No blows to the face!" 

They glared up at him.

"Just a suggestion!" He shrugged and grinned at them. "Okay?!"

No blows to the heart, either, he thought as he hurried toward them.

But he had a feeling that they already knew that.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, okay, I know that I promised a nice, sweet fic. But I just had to include some humor and a hint of naughtiness between Spock and McCoy. I couldn't resist! They are such fractured, needy, yet passionate guys, especially with each other! And, of course, Jim Kirk just has to be himself around the ladies, bad boy that he is!  
> I own nothing dealing with Star Trek, including story lines and/or characters.  
> I also do not own the wonderful song "If I Give My Heart to You" sung by Miss Kitty Kallen and others. It so expresses Spock's reasons for hesitating and his heartfelt desires.


End file.
